


Sucking Up

by MaleficentorMagnificent (NattheBattz)



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-16 17:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21039818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NattheBattz/pseuds/MaleficentorMagnificent
Summary: Morgan goes to settle an issue with Claire, and it does not go how she plans at all.





	1. Chapter 1

The door hasn’t opened all the way before Morgan begins speaking, afraid to lose her nerve. 

“Look, don’t make this a thing, but— why are you crying?" She asks, blinking in surprise at the other doctor’s state, Morgan's entire planned speech going out the window.

Claire’s in grey sweats and an older, obviously very worn burgundy sweatshirt with letters across the chest too faded to read. But it’s her tear-stained face with her eyes red and swollen from crying that worries Morgan. Claire only looks at her with a type of desperation that she’s seen on the faces of family members of patients that— 

“Who died?” She asks and then mentally berates herself for being so tactless, but throws the regret out knowing that Claire wouldn’t want her to change how she normally treats her. Claire to her credit, doesn’t flinch at the word like she thought she might, but after a few moments her bottom lip begins to tremble as her eyes well up with tears that immediately begin falling down her cheeks. Claire has to audibly swallow before she answers her. 

“My mother.” She says, her voice breaking at the end. Morgan feels her heart ache for the woman standing in front of her, but forces her face to remain politely neutral. 

“Can I come in?” Morgan asks, wanting the other woman to know that she wouldn’t force her company on her, but that she was offering nonetheless. For a moment it looks like Claire might tell her to go away, but right as Morgan is about to tell her to call her if she changes her mind, the other woman steps back to allow her inside. 

Morgan crosses the threshold and waits for Claire to turn around from closing and locking the door before stepping up to her and gently wrapping her arms around her waist. She keeps her arms loose so Claire knows she can push her away if that’s what she wants to do. Claire wraps her own arms around Morgan’s neck, and the blonde woman squeezes her with with equal fervor. 

“She crashed her car because she was drunk. On the bottle of champagne I had saved for celebrating my surgery. It was the only bottle I didn’t pour out. I hid it, but I should’ve known better.” Claire whispers like it’s an admission of guilt. As if she had opened the bottle and handed it to her mother herself.

“Claire, stop. This isn’t your fault, and you know that. Your mother... well, for a lack of better words, your mother was an addict, and statistically speaking—“ Morgan starts, but cuts herself off as Claire steps back to look at her directly and begins speaking.

“I know the statistics. I know it’s not my fault. I’ve been waiting on that phone call since I can remember. I just didn’t think,” Claire takes a deep breath and exhales harshly before continuing, “I didn’t expect to feel like I lost her. As if she was ever really there for me in the first place. But, with her being alive, at least there was the chance for her to surprise me and redeem herself and get her life on the right track. Now there’s nothing... It’s finally over.” Claire says with a frown marring her face. 

Morgan is at a loss for words. Her relationship with her parents was a far cry from Claire’s with her mother. A part of her is angry that Claire’s mother couldn’t keep her shit together for another twelve hours, just to let her daughter have this memorable day of firsts without having it marred by her own untimely death. But she can sense that Claire doesn’t need that from her right now. 

“What’s that?” Claire asks, gesturing toward the small unassuming black bag hanging off Morgan’s shoulder. The woman in question feels a wave of embarrassment wash over her, but forces her poker face to remain in place. 

“Nothing,” she replies as she sets it down under the small entryway desk catching a glimpse of their reflections in the mirror, “have you eaten?” Morgan asks, hoping that Claire will drop it. Thankfully the other woman doesn’t seem to be in the mood to dig the information out of her. She shakes her head in response. “Come on then.” 

Morgan doesn’t wait and steps around the other woman to head toward the kitchen to see what Claire has to eat. “Why haven’t you eaten? There’s leftovers in here.” Morgan asks having assumed Claire just hadn’t been in the mood to prepare herself food. 

Claire’s lips turn down in a frown. “She made that.” She explains, and Morgan mentally sighs that of course that was her luck. “I’m not actually that hungry to be honest with you.” She says quietly, and Morgan knows that that may not be the entire truth but she is not willing to fight the other woman on it. 

“That’s okay.” Morgan reassures in an uncharacteristically kind way that both women notice but thankfully don’t mention. Claire takes a deep breath. 

“She’d been staying here while she was looking for a new apartment. I couldn’t stand hearing her around here, after being so used to being in my own, you know?” Claire asked with a humorless laugh. “Now, the silence isn’t as comforting as I remember. One last thing she could ruin for me I suppose.” Claire mutters casting her gaze to the floor. Morgan wonders what it says about her that she feels a sense of relief at hearing the frustration in her colleague’s voice. She knows what a terrible emotion grief is, and is ever wary of its ability to seemingly negate the negative traits and actions of those passed. As if dying excused someone of all their past transgressions. 

“I can stay here tonight.” Morgan offers, not missing how Claire’s eyes widen at the proposal. 

“Oh that’s not,” Claire bites her lip as her fingers knead the hem of her sweatshirt, “that’s not necessary, I appreciate the offer though. I’m sure you have better ways to spend your night.” She says, and Morgan rolls her eyes at the obvious baiting. 

“Than helping a grieving fri—Co-worker?” Morgan challenges, hoping that Claire doesn’t catch her slip up. The small grin that graces her lips tells Morgan that her hopes are in vain. “You want me to sleep naked or are you going to offer me some pajamas?” Morgan asks wanting to move past the moment. Claire laughs even as her cheeks color a bright red at the other doctor’s words. 

"Follow me then." Claire directs, turning on her heel to lead the way out of the kitchen. Morgan follows wordlessly, as if speaking might make Claire change her mind and tell her to leave. She doubts that will happen, but still opts for better safe than sorry. She also takes note of the lack of photographs on the walls, and can see how lonely this place might feel to someone completely by themselves. 

Claire’s room is slightly larger than Morgan anticipates, although her queen sized bed does a good job of taking up a large portion of the room. A small lamp atop a modest nightstand by Claire's side of the bed is illuminating the room with a soft, warm glow. Claire is rummaging through the dresser hidden away in her closet, scrubs hanging on the rack to her left, and her casual wear hanging up to her right.

“I don’t know what you like to sleep in, but it gets kind of cool in here at night, so I grabbed you a long-sleeved shirt, but I have tank-tops if you get hot easily.” Claire nervously explains as she hands over the top along with some cotton knee-length shorts with a draw string to keep them from falling off Morgan's slighter hips. Morgan chuckles at the display as she takes the offered clothes. 

“These’ll be fine, I’m sure. Thank you.” Morgan says with a warm smile on her lips. Claire nods with a grateful smile of her own. They stay staring at each other until Morgan clears her throat and slightly lifts the clothes in her hands. “You gonna watch me change?” She asks, taking a sick kind of satisfaction in watching Claire’s blush return with a vengeance. “Alright then.” Morgan says with a shrug as she drops the clothes on the edge of the bed, and reaches for the hem of her shirt so she can pull it off over her head. She hears Claire splutter out incoherent bits of words as she turns around to avoid seeing Morgan in a state of further undress. 

Morgan opens her mouth to tease Claire further, but stops herself before she can utter whatever patronizing comment she had been about to say. She finds herself frustrated with her own awkwardness regarding genuine empathy and sympathy. Or maybe she’s irritated by the fact that she really wants to be here for Claire right now, and that is certainly not what tonight was supposed to be about. 

“Sorry.” Claire finally manages as the blood that rushed to her cheeks finally begins to redistribute. 

“I don’t mind if you look, Claire.” Morgan replies without having the decency to hide her satisfied smirk when Claire’s eyes snap back up to her in surprise. 

“Stop picking on me, my mother just died, it’s in poor taste, Morgan.” Claire reprimands, and it’s Morgan’s turn to go wide-eyed in shock. She’s still floundering for the right words when Claire laughs and moves to the left side of the bed to pull the comforter down so she can get under the cover. 

“My apologies, you’re right. I’ll reserve all teasing until tomorrow.” Morgan quips as she pulls the covers on her side down. She’s pleasantly surprised at the softness of the sheets against her legs, and makes a mental note to ask Claire about what kind they are at a later date. 

“Thanks for the consideration, are you settled in?” Claire asks as she reaches over to turn off her lamp, waiting for Morgan’s hum of affirmation before doing so, plunging the room into semi-darkness. As Morgan’s eyes adjust, she realizes the room is lit fairly well by the moonlight coming in through the open blinds. “Do you have work in the morning?” Claire inquires, scaring the other woman who had just adjusted to the silence. 

“Yes. You?” 

“Yep. You want to car pool?” 

“Sure.”

Once again quiet overtakes the dark room. 

"I’m not ready to plan a funeral.” Claire confesses, and Morgan turns her head to look at the other woman to see her staring up at the ceiling. 

“We can worry about that tomorrow. For now, come here and then—“ 

“Excuse me, what?” Claire asks, cutting the other woman off. Morgan is glad the lights are off as she feels her own cheeks warm. 

“I mean get over here, so I can hold you or whatever. Then you can—“ Morgan tries explaining once more, but is cut off again. 

“Why would you offer to hold me?” Claire asks as she finally turns her head to return Morgan’s gaze. The blonde doctor clenches her jaw at the question. Also because she doesn't appreciate being interrupted, and Claire has done that a few times now. “Why even offer to stay?” Claire presses, something subtly dangerous lurking in her tone now. 

“You need it, and I’m here.” Morgan supplies and watches the small tales of Claire’s thoughts play out across her face. She doesn’t get much insight given the dim lighting, but she can still see the furrow of Claire’s brow. 

“But why are you here?” Claire asks. Morgan huffs. 

“Is it that difficult for you to imagine me as not entirely heartless?” Morgan challenges. Claire gives her a small smile followed by a small shake of her head. “Good. Now, as I’ve been trying to say, get over here.” Morgan repeats, opening her arm and being pleasantly surprised to have Claire immediately begin situating herself against her body, “Comfortable?” Morgan asks receiving a nod against her shoulder, the tip of Claire’s nose brushing the side of her neck by the end of the motion. “Tell me about your surgery.” Morgan demands, and she feels more so than hears Claire’s small sigh. 

“What about it?” Claire inquires. 

“Everything. How you felt you did? What you thought, when. And just how you feel about it in general. Obviously I heard it was a success, but I want to hear it straight from you. What was it like to be the lead?” Morgan asks, not entirely loathing the small tone of reverence she can hear in her own voice. Better than the jealousy that has been slowly eating away at her at the very least. 

“I made a mistake. I nicked the right hepatic artery. It rattled me a bit, but Melendez was there and he was composed and reassuring and I corrected it, and it was such a euphoric feeling of success. I just,” Claire pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath, and then Morgan feels hot tears fall against her skin, “can’t believe I felt such an incredible high before such a devastating low. That in some sick way, they’re related to each other.” Claire whispers, and Morgan takes her hand and uses her fingertips to gently rub at the other woman’s scalp in what she hopes is a comforting manner. 

“I’m sorry Claire. This might sound callous, but your mother’s death doesn’t cheapen what you accomplished today. I mean, aside from saving a patient that you weren’t even on the case for, you led your first surgery _successfully_. That’s no small feat. Granted, had I led the surgery there would’ve been no mistakes, but it’s not a competition.” Morgan chides, smiling to herself. 

“Of course it’s not, because I already won. I don’t have to hypothesize about my first time anymore.” Claire readily replies, and maybe Morgan’s squeeze on the other woman’s shoulder is tighter than the typical comforting gesture, but she knows Claire knows better than to blatantly provoke her. Morgan may be playing the part, but she is still nursing her wounded pride at having been beaten out for the opportunity to lead the surgery. Several scathing responses come to mind, but she forces herself to let them go, sighing heavily instead. 

“Remember that comment in the morning. I hope it’s worth it.” Morgan warns with her most intimidating voice. She must lack her usual conviction, because Claire merely hugs herself tighter against the blonde doctor. Morgan does not know how long it takes them to fall asleep, only that the task of drifting off is easier for her with Claire lying next to her than sleeping in her own bed has been in months. Her last coherent thought is about how great these sheets must be.


	2. And When I'm Chief Resident, I'll Remember This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That damned black bag. (The chapter that changed the rating of this fic).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after 3x3, and I wrote it before watching 3x4, so consider it canon divergent I suppose. Absolutely no proof reading for this one, so I apologize if there's any glaring mistakes.  
EDIT: I read over this again, and I just cannot let all of the grammatical errors I made stand. That's what I get for writing the majority of it on my phone, but the convenience, right?

Morgan slowly rolls her neck left to right, letting her head hang as she rolls her shoulders back. She’d overslept with Claire, so both of them had left the other woman’s house in a hectic rush. 

She hadn’t seen Claire for the rest of the morning, but the news of her mother’s passing had spread throughout the rumor mill well enough due to their EMTs responding to the wreck. Morgan had overheard Melendez and Lim talking about it as they passed her in a hallway, not noticing her with her head tilted down, pretending to be absorbed in the charts in her hands. Lim expressed her worry at Claire’s behavior, and Morgan wondered what kind of behavior would warrant that remark. She doubled back to eavesdrop from a safe distance back as the couple continued their conversation. 

“She’s acting like nothing’s wrong. That doesn’t strike you as odd?” Lim asked. 

“Maybe she didn’t get along with her mother, why should she be expected to react a certain way?” Melendez challenged. 

“Our most empathetic resident, completely above losing her mother? Really?” Lim questioned with a sarcastic tone, and Morgan had to agree with her. Melendez had veered to the right to open a door for his companion, so Morgan turned on her heel and began walking away before either of them could spot her. 

It was concerning to imagine the difference between the woman she saw last night compared to the woman Lim described. She realized that of course Claire wouldn’t allow her sadness to show through at work, not now after working so hard to tame her wild streaks of empathetic displays. But still, it was concerning nonetheless. 

Later as she impatiently waited outside the lab for her patient’s blood work, Murphy approached her to tell her that Claire had not taken well to his attempt at comforting her. He asked her what he should say to her to her to fix it. Maybe it was her frustration with the hellacious wait she had to endure, but Morgan suddenly found herself irritated with her coworkers. 

“What makes you think I know what to say?” Morgan asked, her tone colored with her annoyance. Shaun had so readily replied, she still wasn’t sure he hadn’t prepared for it. 

“You most recently had someone important to you die, thus giving you a fresher perspective similar to what Claire is feeling. Also Claire listens to you.” 

He said factually, and Morgan’s impatience had momentarily given way to shock. She felt a smile on her lips as she realized that she and Murphy were probably equally comforting in times of loss. 

Morgan’s phone vibrating pulls Morgan out of her thoughts.

_You left your bag here, do you want me to bring it to you?_

Morgan’s heart slams to a halt before starting back up at a thundering pace. Of course she left her fucking bag at Claire’s this morning. She’s already standing up from her dining room table, her chair groaning and scraping against the floor as her fingers fly over the screen, typing her response. 

_No, you can just leave it, and I’ll come by to get it! Be there in 20 minutes!_

She catches sight of her reflection in her living room mirror and suddenly regrets lounging in her comfiest, worn grey leggings and frumpy blue t-shirt. She doesn’t have any time to change though, so she has to grit her teeth as she locks her front door and practically jogs out to her car. She checks her phone at a red light to see if Claire has responded to her yet, but she only sees a read receipt. This for some reason doesn’t help to settle her nerves. The ramifications of Claire seeing the contents of that bag are unthinkable for the blonde woman, and she curses as she catches the fourth light in a row. 

30 minutes and one hastily, not perfect parallel parking job later, and Morgan is raping her knuckles against Claire’s door in a probably-too-aggressive manner. Claire answers the door in the same sweat pants she was wearing last night, but with a black athletic hoodie instead of the same top. Morgan can’t help immediately looking past her to where she’d left her bag last night. She gets a sinking feeling when it’s not there, though she tries not to let it show on her face. Looking back up to Claire’s face startles her in the same way it did last night. In a way, her bag is what’s brought her here twice now, but Claire’s red-rimmed eyes seem so much more important than that damned bag in the moment. 

“Hey, how’re you? I didn’t get to see you at work today.” Morgan asks, torn between wanting to be a good, supportive friend and looking for her bag to hopefully save what little self respect she has left around the other doctor. Claire shrugs and hums noncommittally as she steps aside to invite Morgan inside. She doesn’t say anything more as she shuts and locks the door behind the taller woman, wordlessly turning and heading toward the kitchen. Morgan’s eyes zero in on the seemingly harmless black bag resting on the counter. She tries to hold herself back from launching herself at the bag, using casually measured steps to walk over to it and feels herself marginally calm down at having the bag back in her possession.

“You never did tell me what was in there.” Claire says almost conversationally, but the contents of the bag make Morgan wary to believe that’s the case. She swallows nervously, but forces her face to remain impassive. 

“It’s my gym clothes, I was at the gym before I came over last night.” Morgan lies, patting the bag like she’s fond of it or something. 

“Oh, so you were just in the neighborhood then?” Claire asks, a challenging lift to her eyebrow. Morgan nods as her hand subtly worries the slack strap stretching over her shoulder. 

Claire hums in acknowledgement as she steps away from leaning against the door frame. “You know what I think?” Claire asks, an unfamiliar smirk curling her lips as she approaches the other woman. 

“What?” Morgan asks, her throat suddenly dry. 

“I think it’s unlikely that you would come from the gym in jeans and a sweater, which is what you were wearing last night. So,” Claire pauses as she reaches for Morgan’s hips, turning and pinning her against the counter using her own hips, “I think you’re lying.” Claire whispers as she rolls her hips into Morgan. 

The blonde doctor is going through a mental reboot though, her mind not able to process the other doctor’s words and actions along with the feeling of the hard length pressing against thigh. Claire had not only opened the bag, but helped herself to its contents it seems. 

“What were your intentions last night Morgan? Before I opened the door.” Claire asks as she steps back and crosses her arms. Morgan tries not to drool at the way her pants hint to the surprise Claire is wearing beneath them. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go either. Morgan bites her lip in an attempt to focus herself. 

“I had come here to tell you something, and depending on how you took that, well...” Morgan says, trailing off and gesturing toward Claire's crotch with a tilt of her head. Claire nods. 

“And what were you going to tell me?” She inquires, and Morgan hopes that the warmth blossoming in her cheeks isn’t visible to the other woman. She wishes her heart rate would stable out. 

“I don’t know if what I was going to say is exactly appropriate given the current circumstances.” Morgan explains, feeling a thousand times more uncomfortable than she had last night. Claire’s eyes harden as she shifts her weight, slightly widening her stance. 

“The current circumstances being my mother dying or me wearing your strap that you for some reason brought to my house in the middle of the night?” Claire asks with an odd mix of cockiness and mistrust. Morgan really shouldn’t be so turned on right now, but she’s always found directness attractive. 

“Mainly the first one, but after the new development of the latter point, I’m inclined to say a little bit of column a, a little bit of column b.” Morgan reluctantly replies knowing that neither is a good choice. 

“I’m a big girl, Morgan. Tell me what you were going to say.” Claire demands, and the other woman has to lean back against the counter to keep upright as her knees threaten to buckle. There is so much at stake here, since she’s sure if she says one wrong word that Claire could potentially ruin her now. And yes she had planned to initiate something like this just last night, but that’s the root of the issue right there. She had planned for last night, but she hadn’t meant to leave the bag here after finding Claire in the state she was in. Everything right now is out of her control. Claire is once again three steps ahead of her, and it’s this thought that sparks enough of Morgan’s repressed frustration with the other woman to push past her floundering embarrassment. 

“I was going to tell you that while I respect that you beat me for the first lead,” Morgan starts, having to take a breath to steel herself to commit to everything she says beyond this point, “That you won’t be on top for long, and I was going to offer you an opportunity to learn how to take orders from me. Also, to consider it a reward for your job well done. I like a challenge, and positive reaffirmation has been proven to increase desired outcomes.” Morgan finishes with a sharp nod of her head. Claire laughs and shakes her head as if Morgan has just told a joke. Morgan frowns. 

“I fucking knew it.” Claire says as she drops her arms and reaches for the other woman’s hips. Her hands are much rougher as she grabs Morgan and turns her around to press her front against the counter, bending them over slightly. Morgan has to grip the counter to keep from hitting her head against the cabinets, but her mind is only focusing on the dildo that Claire is subtly grinding against her ass. Her breath is warm on her neck as she speaks, “You thought you were going to come into my house, and lay down some laws.” Claire says with a mocking chuckle as her fingertips dig into Morgan’s hips. The added pressure causes Morgan to exhale harshly. 

“Let’s get something right; I’m going to break you of this rebellious streak you have. You need to get used to doing as I say, because I have no intention of letting you beat me. And as future Chief Resident, I think it’s important that we get this established as early as possible.” Claire says, her voice lower than Morgan’s ever heard it, and she hates how that alone is enough to get her wet. She wants to let go and lose herself in whatever Claire is trying to offer her, but she can’t quite allow that just yet. 

“All professional power struggles aside, are you sure that this is a good idea? Right now, given your recent loss, it makes sense to turn to sex for some form of emotional comfort, but that’s not really—" Morgan begins to ask but is cut off by Claire’s voice. 

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m capable of separating my grief from this. I’m tired of you thinking that you’re the one in charge all the time, as if we’re all just puppets in your orchestrated performance. Everyone treated me differently today, like they were walking on eggshells around me, afraid to say the wrong thing that would cause me to break down. It was exhausting. But there was you. And I just kept thinking how if you were around today, you would’ve pretended that you didn’t already know. You would’ve treated me normally.” Claire finishes, and Morgan wishes she could turn around to see if the other woman had tears in her eyes or if her voice alone was betraying her. “At least, that’s what I thought. But you were too what, scared, or too polite to ask the mourning woman for sex?” Claire asks, making Morgan wonder if she imagines the slight hint of betrayal in the other woman’s voice.

“I didn’t want to be a dick, is that so bad? ‘Oh, sorry your mom just died, you want to fuck until you can’t walk right the next day’ doesn’t really fit my style.” Morgan practically growls, annoyance beginning to overtake her mind at being so frustratingly aroused with no relief being offered. 

“Well you missed your chance, because now I’m taking charge. If you’re ready to play nice, you can join me in my bedroom. If not, then I know you know where the door is, and I’ll drop this off,” she pauses and steps back to gesture toward her crotch, Morgan turning around to see her do so, “tomorrow.” Claire finishes as she turns and walks out of the kitchen. 

Morgan knows that she can leave if she really wants to. She hadn’t planned on letting Claire fuck her. This was supposed to be a victory for her, but this would obviously be a score for Claire, who’s already up 1-0. Her pride is practically screaming at her to pick up some of the few pieces left of her dignity lying scattered on the floor around her and leave the other woman’s home. However, her body is rooted to the spot, entirely unwilling to leave the promise of some relief, despite her mental instructions to walk out the door and never look back. She finally moves to check inside her bag and sees the bottle of lube and small pink vibrator missing as well. Claire has predicted the outcome of tonight, and that’s even more incentive for Morgan to leave. It’d be so rewarding getting to see Claire’s frustrated face at work tomorrow, knowing that she was the cause.  
When her body moves again, it’s not where she wants to go, but she’s not necessarily surprised as she angles toward Claire’s room instead of the exit. The lamp is the sole light on like the night before, only this time the warm glow washes over Claire, who’s perched on the edge of her bed. In the time Morgan had spent deliberating, Claire had taken off her shirt and pants, leaving her in a black sports bra with the purple dildo proudly protruding between her spread legs. Morgan’s pulse hammers as her mouth waters. God, this was not how this was supposed to go at all. 

“Are you going to do as you're told?” Claire asks nonchalantly, as if she’s not asking Morgan to (maybe literally) bow to her. She doesn’t trust herself not to say something snarky, so she settles on nodding instead. To say Claire’s smile is smug is an understatement. “Come here.” She commands, and Morgan against all odds complies and stops right in front of the other woman, almost standing between her legs. It’s hard to keep her eyes from zeroing in on the dick there. “I didn’t see any condoms in your bag; have you used this with anyone else?” Claire asks causing Morgan’s blush to return. She shakes her head. 

“I uh, bought all that stuff for y—this.” Morgan answers. Claire’s grin is outright shit-eating at the news. She reaches up and gently presses her fingertips against Morgan’s hips, urging her to step back. Claire stands up with the newfound space and her fingertips travel up to toy with the hem of Morgan’s t-shirt. She waits for Morgan to meet her eyes before she lifts the thin fabric over her head. Morgan wants to blame the cool air for her nipples already being hard, but she knows it’s due to the attention Claire is giving her as her eyes roam over her exposed torso. Claire’s fingertips graze over the skin of her collarbone as she lightly trails them lower. She grabs both of her breasts firmly in her hands, her warm palms enough of a contrast to make her skin breakout in goosebumps. 

“You’re something else you know that, right?” Claire asks as she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of Morgan’s leggings and starts peeling them down her legs. Morgan lifts her feet up to make the task easier for the other woman, and she briefly wonders if she should have made Claire work harder for it. The thought vanishes as Claire runs her hands up her legs from her ankles to rest on her hips as she stands. “Get on the bed, on your back.” Claire tells her, and Morgan allows herself a private grin at the fact that the other woman sounds eager. She wastes no time in complying with the direction, trying to decide if she was happy or embarrassed that she isn't wearing any underwear tonight, feeling extra exposed in comparison to Claire’s state of dress. She has to fight the urge to cross her arms or bring her knees up to her chest to cover herself. Claire seems to notice her discomfort, and Morgan wants to roll her eyes at herself or Claire, she’s not entirely sure. “Are you alright?” She asks still standing at the edge of the bed, apparently busy retrieving the lube and vibrator that are now somehow in her hands. Morgan huffs as she brushes some of her hair behind her ear. 

“Will you take off your bra?” She asks deciding that she doesn’t have the patience to be shy. Claire’s smile softens at the same time it seems to become that much more incorrigible. She crawls onto the bed toward Morgan who has her eyes trained on her every move. 

“You can take it off.” Claire answers as she pushes herself up onto her knees. Morgan quickly rocks up onto her knees so she can remove the article of clothing, tossing it somewhere off to the side, too busy appreciating the new view to see where it lands. “Do you want to touch them?” Claire asks with a knowing, gloating tone. Morgan bites her lip as she weighs the merit of each response that comes to mind. She settles on nodding hoping the other woman will accept the answer. “Nope. You have to say what you want. So be a good girl and tell me if you want to touch me.” Claire commands sharply, the hand gently cupping Morgan’s cheek a contradiction to her voice. 

“Yes, I want to touch you.” Morgan admits, her hands thrumming with the near need to explore Claire’s chest. She waits for Claire to respond, but the other woman merely watches her with an impassive expression, no longer touching her either. Morgan wants to pull at her hair with how crazy Claire is driving her. Several moments of this stand off and Morgan allows herself to audibly groan as she drops her face into her hands. She clasps her hands in front of herself, gritting her teeth as she decides to completely swallow her pride for the sake of her sanity. “Please.” She concedes. Claire smiles and nods her head in approval. 

“Come here then.” Claire allows and Morgan eagerly accepts as she uses her left hand to gently grab at the other woman’s large breast, getting accustomed to the feel of the weight against her palm as she aggressively bites the opposite nipple. Claire hisses in pain but before she can reprimand the other woman, Morgan is gently running the flat of her tongue across the abused flesh making it easier to forgive her with every swipe of her tongue. Morgan switches her attention to the other breast, peppering kisses around her areola before suddenly leaning up to grab Claire’s face to kiss her. She only seems shocked for a moment and in the next her hands are tangling in Morgan’s hair as her tongue brushes against Morgan’s bottom lip. She parts her lips at the motion, and Claire takes the opportunity to roughly bite her lower lip before gently sucking it into her mouth to run her tongue over the tender flesh. Morgan knows that it’s payback for her love bite earlier but forgets to say anything about it as the other woman’s hand suddenly makes itself known at the juncture between her legs. She drops her head to rest against Claire’s shoulder. The blonde woman tries to stifle the soft moan that rushes past her lips as Claire dips her fingers between her lower lips. “You’re so fucking wet.” Claire exhales as she pushes a single finger into her up to her knuckle, tearing a whine of pleasure from Morgan as her pulse thunders through her veins. 

Morgan turns her head to press her lips against the other woman’s neck, running her tongue along the skin there, relishing in feeling her pulse racing as well under her tongue. She presses another kiss against Claire’s lips before dipping her head back down to the other woman’s breasts. She runs her tongue over Claire’s left nipple as her thumb gently rubs over its twin. She sucks Claire’s nipple into her mouth, running her tongue in tight circles over the peak of her breast and is rewarded by Claire adding a second finger inside her. She moans without restraint as Claire continues fucking her, scissoring her fingers inside of her with each thrust, stretching her in a dizzying delicious manner. “Turn around, get on your hands and knees.” Claire says as she withdraws her fingers without warning making Morgan whine at the sudden loss of sensation. Her whine turns into a soft moan as she watches Claire put the two fingers that had been inside her into her mouth to suck them clean. She doesn’t fight the command and obliges as quickly as she can. 

She catches sight of Claire grabbing the bottle of lube out of her peripheral. “To be honest, I don’t think you need this, but just to be safe.” Claire says, and Morgan’s mind is too foggy with lust to decipher if it’s a gloat or a simple observation. Not that Morgan could even fault the other woman for bragging, since she can’t recall a single instance in her life in which she’s been more turned on than she is right now. But of course, she would never give Claire that kind of satisfaction as to tell her that. Her thought process is obliterated as she feels Claire pressing the head of her dick against her opening. Claire presses a hand to Morgan’s lower back, urging her to arch slightly further. She grabs Morgan’s hip with one hand as she uses the other to guide herself inside the other woman. She’s pressing forward at a sluggish pace, and it’s taking all her self-restraint to go this slow, but it’s worth it to watch Morgan struggle with it as well. Anytime she attempts to push herself back on the dildo, Claire pulls back not allowing her to do so. Morgan groans in frustration and lets her arms give out to press her face against the covers. Claire rewards her submission by thrusting forward until her front is pressing up against Morgan’s ass. The blonde woman tries to sit up as Claire bottoms out, but a hand to her upper back keeps her in place, so she is left fisting her hands in the blanket as her body relishes at the deep stretch and filling sensation. Claire spits onto her fingertips and rubs slow, tight circles against Morgan’s clit making her clench around the dildo inside of her. She curses and tries to roll her hips back, and finally coming to the end of her own patience, Claire starts to fuck her in earnest. 

Claire’s strokes are long, hard, and she’s beginning to hit all the right spots continuously enough that Morgan can’t stop moaning. Morgan’s mind is ceasing higher functions and thought processes, and it takes her longer than it should to realize that the lewd sounds filling the room along with their labored breathing is coming from her. Her skin is flushed, and it feels like every nerve ending in her body is a very short time from combusting, but Claire’s pace is relentless and only falters slightly when she hands her the vibrator with a raspy command to use it on herself. Morgan jolts at the first contact of the vibrator against her clit, but she soon finds the right position for it while Claire continues to hit her perfect spot, and her moans change pitch and are coming more frequently as the dual sensations continue to build up. 

“You’re so good at listening to me Morgan, you’re such a,” Claire pauses as she moans before forcing herself to continue, “God, you’re such a fucking good girl.” She praises and Morgan whimpers at the words, feeling herself get wetter as if she thought that was even possible at this point. Claire continues, her words punctuated by her thrusts, “So good at taking my dick, Morgan. Do you like it?” Claire asks as she pulls Morgan back hard by her hips, rocking them both back so that Morgan can hold herself up again. Claire holds onto Morgan’s hips and uses the leverage to thrust as deep as she can, careful to recreate the angle that had the blonde writhing beneath her. 

“Yes, fuck. I love it, please don’t stop.” Morgan moans into the bed, trying to focus on not passing out from how high strung and breathless she is. “I’m so close Claire, please.” Morgan pleads sure that she will be the first case of someone dying from blue balls if the other woman decides to torture her further tonight. Claire moans at her words and the sound is enough to make Morgan moan too. Her toes are beginning to tingle, and she knows that in a few more moments she’ll reach orgasm. “Just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop, right there.” Morgan chants with her hips rolling frantically against Claire’s thrusts. Claire reaches forward and grabs a fist full of Morgan’s hair, forcing her to arch her back, and Claire's dick hits a spot that has Morgan squeezing her eyes shut as she practically screams at the wave of pleasure that overtakes her. She clenches around Claire’s dick so hard that she almost completely stills her, but that doesn’t stop the small shallow thrusts that she makes to prolong Morgan’s orgasm. No longer able to support herself she lets herself fall forward, moaning softly as the motion pulls her off the dildo, the over stimulation mixed with the loss of the nice stretch enough to cause another fit of shivers to wrack her body. She turns off the vibrator suddenly plunging the room into a tense silence. 

“Holy shit.” Morgan exhales as she rolls over onto her back. She watches as Claire loosens the straps on her harness so she can take it off. “So, are you gonna let me—” Morgan begins to ask, but it’s cut off by Claire’s laugh. 

“Not tonight. I’m pretty exhausted honestly.” Claire answers as she gets up from the bed to take the toys to the bathroom to be cleaned. Morgan tries to tell herself that whatever she’s feeling right now isn’t disappointment. 

“Oh okay, I’ll just get dressed then.” Morgan replies, wondering why she’s taking this so personally right now. It must be some post-coital hormonal reaction, not that that makes this situation anymore bearable.

“Why?” Claire asks as she comes back into the bedroom with a genuinely perplexed expression on her face. Morgan blushes. 

“Weren’t you just giving me a hint that you were done for the night?” Morgan asks feeling confused as well now. Claire rolls her eyes.

“Well, yeah, I’m ready to go to sleep now. Turns out that getting your mother cremated is not as easy a funeral alternative as you’d think. What? Now that we’ve had sex, you can’t sleep with me anymore?” Claire challenges, and Morgan wonders if Claire is dealing with the same emotional turbulence that she is. Sure, they had both calculated sex as another competition, but it does worry Morgan that it’s apparently such a fun one with Claire. Maybe she shouldn’t sleep with her casually now that they’ve had sex, lest lines get blurred and they end up like Lim and Melendez. Morgan thinks of them as a couple and the secrecy they deal with, but she can’t help but think of their professional standings as well. And honestly? They’re doing pretty well for themselves right now as far as Morgan can tell, so maybe…

“I guess there’s no harm in another night. Perhaps we shouldn’t carpool again though, don’t want the others to talk.” Morgan offers, and is relieved to receive a nod in response, having been afraid her words might offend the other doctor. “Come here.” Morgan says as she holds her arms open for the other woman. 

“You want to be the big spoon after that?” Claire asks with a cocky smirk on her lips as she pauses in turning the lamp off. Morgan rolls her eyes.

“Shut up.” She grumbles in response.

“Eloquent.” Claire replies with a small chuckle as she turns out the light and gets under the covers with Morgan, scooting over to press herself against the other woman.

“I thought you said you were tired.” Morgan retorts as she relaxes to allow Claire to get comfortable against her body, her head tucked against her shoulder.

“Exhausted.”

“Then go to sleep.” 

“Okay.” Claire concedes, and sure enough, minutes later the room’s only sound is Claire’s soft snoring. Morgan has no idea how she got here really, but that’s one of the things that she likes about Claire. The other woman was right in accusing her of thinking that she’s above everyone else. It’s a bad habit of hers, absolutely. But that’s because Morgan operates on the basis that everyone has her pessimistic point of view. Claire’s different in that regard though. No matter how much she’s tried to get under the other woman’s skin, or how bad things have gotten at the hospital, Claire is always looking for the silver lining. Maybe that’s why Morgan’s so concerned with how Claire is handling her mother’s death. Lim had been right, it’s out of character for someone so positive to be unaffected by something so negative. But Morgan’s familiar with dark and negative, and she won’t let Claire’s mother drag her down from beyond the grave after Claire has worked so hard to not let her do exactly that her entire life. She doesn’t know what Claire is to her exactly, but she does know that she’ll be here in the morning when Claire wakes up, and that’s more than enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,,, who's feeling Sad for our girl Claire tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I really like the dynamic between these two characters, and I was already planning out the second chapter to this fic before the episode (3x3) ended, but then you know what happened. :/ 
> 
> An unexpected soft chapter for some... Idk, build up for the next chapter which is a different take on what I had originally planned which will change the rating to Explicit.  
This was just supposed to be a PWP, how did we end up here?


End file.
